


Winds Over Neo Domino

by yotrashkid



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Racing, Cursed objects, Friendship, M/M, Slow Burn, cyberpunk bike gang AU, futuristic setting, greatly inspired and slightly based on the movie Akira, too much neon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotrashkid/pseuds/yotrashkid
Summary: 2155 Neo Domino. Illegal racing has become quite popular amongst the youth of the megacity and is thriving with the help of Kaiba Corp. which keeps the police from interfering.Atem finds himself searching the city for his family heirloom that is owned by an extremely elusive persona, connected to the underground biker gang scene.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so this is kinda my first shot at writing a fanfic so this whole thing probably isn't going to be that good.  
>   
> i'm mainly writing it for my friends who strongly encouraged me to try out writing and all of this is just for fun.  
>   
> if someone else beside them enjoys this too then that's really cool!

Atem is shaken awake when the plane hits a particularly bad turbulence and the voice through the intercom loudly announces that they will arrive at Neo Domino in about 15 minutes. The passengers liven at the thought of finally getting off the cramped plane and onto solid ground, the flight attendant gesturing for everyone to buckle up for the landing. He tries his best to ignore the child next to him as his mother demands the boy to please stop kicking the front seat and disturbing the nice man at the front. With a deep sigh, he looks out of the window, gaze settling on nothing in particular, the massive buildings and the thick orange smog of Neo Domino blocking out any scenic view that might lie beyond.

To say that Neo Domino is gigantic would be putting it mildly. It stretches out in every possible direction, the rooftops disappearing beyond black clouds, which even the artificial light cannot pierce. Atem had only seen buildings this massive in photos, to actually fly past these giants is something else entirely. They’re cast in various shades of orange, colorful neon signs visible even this high and he has to squint because it’s a bit too bright for his liking. The city is a like beacon at night, its light never going out - or so they say.

The plane finally lands at 22:45 PM on Thursday in Neo Dome Airport, at the far edge of the city. Atem waits for his luggage, gets lost trying to find his way out and after looking at the map of the airport for a solid 30 minutes, finally manages to leave the damned building.

As soon as the Egyptian steps out, bright lights assault his vision and Atem has to stop in his tracks and shield his eyes.

The entrance road is packed tight with lines and lines of taxis, all covered in neon signs and the urgency to drive - if the blaring of the horns is anything to go by. Beyond the road there are little shops, stacked next and on top of each other like match boxes, the multicolor displays on the windows tempting the passersby. Beyond them, quite a bit further away and looming in the distance, lies the ever expanding city of Neo Domino.

Atem stares a bit too long and gets shoved out of the way by a burly businessman, who shoots a comment in a language he can’t quite understand, and he has to step closer to the wall to let the groups of people rush past him. It’s a constant bustle outside the airport, with everyone talking or shouting, the robotic voice on the intercom continuously announcing flights and neon invading your vision everywhere you look - every sign and every surface is covered with it to attract attention.

Atem closes his eyes and tries to take a breather to block out his surroundings for at least a minute; he’s not used to so many things happening all at once, Khemet never ever being this crowded and never this bright, no matter what time of the day he used to go out.

As soon as he inhales deeply, a cough tears through Atem’s lungs and he swears. Momentarily he had forgotten the poisonous smog engulfing Neo Domino, factory smoke and machine exhaust being pumped here to no end, causing health issues throughout the whole city. Neo Domino is somewhat infamous for it. There’s always a big talk about how there’s going to be special purification pumps installed in the city but the project never quite actually happens. Atem hacks a few more coughs, straightens up, tries not to breathe too deeply and prays in his mind that he’ll get used to this. Soon, hopefully.

He makes his way to the nearest available taxi, green neon on its sides indicating that it’s unoccupied at the moment. He shoves his luggage in the trunk and then flops down in the back, already feeling exhausted. Atem slips out his pad out of his back pocket and recites the address to the taxi man. A robotic “Understood” echoes through the car and only now does Atem take a good look at the driver.

This one is driven by an android, huh.

The vehicle bursts into life and just as Atem settles in to read some news, it slumps, causing him to smash his nose into the driver’s seat and drop his pad. A steady whirring sound fills the cabin along with muted chatter of some random radio station and - oh no, it’s a fucking jet car. He has just been flying for 7 hours straight, he doesn’t want to spend any more time flying than he has to. He goes on to ask the android to let him out - that he’ll find another taxi - but the car shoots up in the air and they’re off.

Atem just sighs, scrambles for the damned pad and after its successful retrieval, sends Mahad a quick message that his plane finally landed.  Okay, fine, he’ll ride in this taxi then.

-

He gets dropped off at the intersection of the 48th and 49th districts in the central Southside of Neo Domino and Atem feels like kissing the ground. Being a computer programmed machine clearly wasn’t cutting it for the android as it was still a pretty shitty driver and Atem swears that they missed crashing into those cars out of pure luck. The robot’s depth perception calibrator is clearly malfunctioning, shit - it might even be broken.

The two room apartment he’s renting is quite a few districts away from the city centre, the buildings not so massive here as it isn’t a very prestigious part of town. The rent is quite cheap and the streets are teeming with life, colorful people passing Atem without a second glance, too wrapped up in their own lives to take notice of their surroundings.

He looks around a bit and takes in his new home. In an alley to the left he spots a couple of people wrapped in scarves sifting through a waste dump, a reckless thing to do as it might open up any minute and send them flying into the maws of a crusher. The bottom of the apartment complex is covered in writings and faded fliers and there are deep cracks lining the windows. His gaze just keeps following the cracks higher and higher and he has to grab onto a nearby news dispenser unless he wants to fall backwards onto the pavement from tilting his head so far back.

It looks like the structures are going endlessly into the sky. He slowly spins around and just looks upwards, trying to figure out where the buildings end but it’s just not there; just more lights stretching forever.

Atem’s so little compared to these monoliths, like an ant looking at giants. No, he’s even smaller than a speck of dust.

He cannot tear his gaze away, tuning out everything that’s happening around him, and only then vertigo hits hard and he has to tighten his grip on the dispenser just so that he wouldn’t collapse on the sidewalk. It feels like the lights are going to swallow him up. Atem shuts his eyes, lowers his head, and tries not to breathe too deeply unless he wants to choke again. He counts up to ten several times and finally calms down. Everything’s too different, too monstrous and it’s pretty clear that it will be quite hard to adjust to all of this.

Atem slips into the building, the pass code door is broken and he idly wonders if this will be fixed soon. The main lobby is dimly lit, casting everything in pale yellow, and he is actually glad that there’s little to no neon here, save for the flashing numbers above the elevators at the back. There are a bunch of kids loitering around, probably no older than 10, shouting and throwing playing cards everywhere, but he just passes them quietly and makes his way to the elevators at the back.  There are 18 of them and he presses each one’s buttons just because. He doesn’t like waiting too long.

After a few moments there’s a ding and he’s going up, glad that he got an empty one. He enters 4-1-8 and hopes that it doesn’t take an eternity to get there.

It’s a fast way up and soon he finds himself wandering through a maze of corridors and doors. He walks by the elevators at least three times and it feels like he’s been searching for hours. The apartment numbers change throughout each corridor, going up and down randomly and Atem gets the feeling that he should probably call up his landlord and ask for help. He finds a map of the floor at the far end of some corridor but it’s so faded from the light that you can barely make out anything at all.

There’s a beep not too far off and he turns his head to find a woman coming out of an apartment. She adjusts the straps of her purse with one hand while the other lazily swipes the key card over the scanner to secure the apartment and she’s about to go off but Atem shouts for her to stop.

She’s polite and readily helps Atem locate his new home. Once they find it, he thanks the woman and only then, when he’s properly looking at her face, does Atem notice the neon orange in her eyes. She must’ve gotten the enhancement quite recently, as the color is still quite bright and not faded, as it usually gets after a few months. Or she got an augmentation, but he doubts that someone living here would have the money to buy something so expensive.

Atem makes a mental note to get a touch up on his own eyes; the red is probably completely faded as it’s been about 4 months since his last visit to the tattoo parlor.

The woman goes off towards the elevators and Atem gets busy searching his luggage for the key card. Soon, he’s swiping the card on the scanner and the door opens with a loud beep, shutting itself after he steps inside.

The lights turn on automatically and the little flat is cast in blue. Atem, irritated by the brightness, dims the lights to a faint glow. The lights from outside invade the apartment, casting orange streaks on the walls and sparse furniture and he prays that there are automatic blinds installed.

The apartment isn’t anything spectacular, only furnished with the basic essentials. There’s a kitchenette to the right of the living room and to the left there’s a bedroom with a king-sized bed, the little room having its own separate door to the bathroom. Oh, how lucky, he even got a shabby closet too, unlike the TV that was supposed to be in the living room. Atem managed to get an apartment with windows, something which raised the price of the rent quite a bit but it would’ve felt weird and wrong not to have a way to look outside, to be boxed in by four walls.

He doesn’t bother to unpack anything tonight, intense weariness settling in and he feels like plopping down just there in the middle of the living room and sleeping off the jetlag. He kicks off his boots, throws his leather jacket over the sofa and roots around his luggage for a towel.

He hadn’t been in Neo Domino for long, an hour at most since his arrival at the airport, but he felt it as soon as he walked inside. The filth from the polluted air outside and the grime sticking to his fingers, his clothes, his face. It’s unpleasant and it feels quite nasty just to touch anything.

Atem urgently makes his way to the bathroom and strips his last pieces of clothing, struggles with the belt buckle in his haste. When everything’s off he’s almost jumping in the shower, setting it to a 15 minute stream of lava-hot goodness. As soon as the water hits him, he gives out a contented sigh and slouches forward, forehead resting against the cool surface of the wall.

It feels like heaven to finally get clean after such a long day. There’s no hum of electronics or the endless background chatter of people here, the only sound being that of water hitting the tiles and Atem’s muscles relax.

-

Restless, Atem keeps tossing in his bed for what feels like forever. There’s a dull ache deep in his bones and he desperately wants to just finally pass out for at least a couple of hours.

The bed is facing the window; normally that wouldn’t be a problem but the paper thin blinds do jack shit to block out the orange glow and the random bursts of white flashes as the cars fly by. He tries to cover himself with the blanket, but even then light seems to seep through the fabric and makes Atem see orange behind his eyelids.

He feels around the bed until he finds his pad. It’s 2:48 AM and life doesn’t stop in Neo Domino even at this hour. There’s a constant whirr outside accompanied by the wail of sirens, someone next door is watching some soap opera on such a high volume that it feels like they are right here in this bedroom. Loud stomping comes from up above coupled with muffled shouting.

Maybe it’s because it truly was a very long day for him, coupled with the stress of travelling to a new and completely unknown city, so far away from all things familiar. Maybe it’s the slowly creeping realization that he’ll have to live here for who knows long, will have to deal with this perpetual assault on his senses. Or maybe it’s the fact that in a city of a billion people, Atem has no one to turn to.

Doubt fills Atem’s mind as he kicks off the blanket and stares at the ceiling. Regret feels bitter and all he can think about is that maybe he made a very big mistake by coming here. Alone. Mahad and Mana had offered to come along, but he declined, reassuring them that he’d be fine on his own and besides, he couldn’t just take his father’s best advisors for who knows how long. Think of it as a fun adventure where Atem gets to finally do shit on his own.

_God, what a fool._

He wants to laugh at his own idiocy but his chest feels tight, there’s that familiar sting in his eyes and a sob is threatening to leave his mouth if he dares to open it.

He wants to call Mahad or Mana or even dad, just to hear them speak to him, just the sound of their voices would be enough to calm him down, but it wouldn’t be wise to do that now. They’re probably tired of driving around and doing business all day and they would surely comment and get worried over Atem calling them, when it’s such an early hour here, instead of resting after his flight. He doesn’t want them to worry, they already have enough problems on their hands.

So he just curls up, wraps himself tight in the blanket and turns his head until his face is buried in the pillow. A shudder rattles his body and he can do nothing but curl up in on himself even more.

He wants to go home.

-

There's a loud crash upstairs and it makes Atem jump out of his bed. Whoever was having a shouting match there last night is still going at it apparently and ah yes, the screaming is picking up in volume again.

He shoves his head under the pillow and groans, hoping that this won’t be a daily occurrence or he'll have to file noise complaints. On the brighter side, at least his next door neighbor is quiet for now.

It's hard to tell if Atem had been passed out for long. He reaches for his pad at the very edge of the bed and prays that he doesn’t accidentally push it off completely. He secures it in his hand and taps the screen. 12:11 PM flashes for a few moments then fades.

He can’t say that he’s well rested after sleeping for so unusually long, though that hasn’t been a thing for him for several years now.

Weird abstract shadows plagued his dreams, always at the edge of his field of vision, never quite coming into view, vanishing as soon as Atem would turn his head to look at them directly. Often they would whisper gibberish or hiss out his name. On some occasions the shadows would engulf the dream and show him visions of the Millennium Items, a collective rasp demanding that he find the last missing one.

Tonight wasn’t any different and on some level Atem was disappointed. He kind of hoped that actively trying to seek out the Millennium Puzzle would appease his subconscious or whatever that was causing these dreams, that the ‘darkness’ would shut up for at least a night and let him actually sleep.

His grandfather used to say that the Millennium Items are probably cursed since they come from the time of the Pharaohs. They did have an unnerving energy about them but Atem always wrote it off as a silly joke, meant to scare him away from playing with them when he was little.

Now, though, after having these dreams for six years, affecting his sleep and daily life, he thinks that maybe grandpa actually knew what he was talking about and wasn’t making it all up. He swears that he sometimes sees the shadows even while being awake, though it might be paranoia and lack of sleep making him see things that aren’t actually there.

Another crashing sound comes from above and Atem takes it as his cue to stop mussing about the reason why he’s here, get out of bed and get on with his life.

Only now does he fully unpack and scatter his belongings throughout the apartment. He hasn’t brought much stuff along, figuring that it would be best to bring only the most important stuff with him and buy the rest in Neo Domino instead of lugging his entire room through half of the world. Plus, the airlines had a limit on how much he could carry and fast shipping wasn't exactly cheap.

-

Today is dedicated to buying food and some essential stuff the apartment is missing.

The nearest shopping center is a couple of blocks over and Atem knows that there's an entire shopping district if you take route I7b towards the city centre but he leaves the trip for another day.

He quickly throws on a simple white tank-top and his leather jacket, grabs his wallet and the key card from the kitchen counter and makes his way out of the apartment, heading for the elevators. He takes a turn too soon and yet again gets lost. After a bit of backtracking he finally reaches the elevators and makes his way down.

This time it's quite crowded and a kid is listening to some repetitive trance beats a bit too loudly for anyone’s liking. More people get in as the elevator descends and he gets uncomfortably smushed between a wall and an old balding man whose elbow digs deeper into Atem's left side every time the elevator hits a bump.

They reach ground level and people spill out. The kids he had seen playing in the lobby yesterday night are here again today, this time crowding over a kid with a pad, staring intently at the little screen.

The sky is a shade of dark gray and it doesn’t look like there will be any sun today. Atem doesn’t stare up for too long though, afraid to get nausea again. The city looks completely different at day - no artificial light to give the buildings color. Everything’s just kind of gray and dull and, honestly, it’s a lot more pleasing to the eye.

He turns left and leisurely strolls towards where the shopping center is supposed to be located. He checks the map in his pad ever so often just to make sure he's walking the right way. The apartment complexes look identical, the only indication that Atem isn’t walking in circles being the various little vendor stands that pop up every so often. After every few buildings, cramped in the alleyways, there are diners and inns, sometimes stairs leading down into absinthe joints and lounges.

The shopping center spans at least 10 floors and the variety of products is so huge Atem spends at least 30 minutes just walking between the aisles of instant noodles on the 3rd floor. He buys enough food to last a week, grabs a couple of towels and laundry detergent, a pack of coat hangers, some kitchen and bathroom essentials and the cheapest burner laptop there. On his way to self-checkout, he spots a simple red frame and grabs that as well.

Heading home, Atem orders some takeout, feeling like trying out the local food.

-

At about 7 in the evening Atem gets a video call from Mana while he’s setting up his burner laptop in the living room. She pesters him for quite some time, asking him to tell her absolutely everything about Neo Domino. He remarks that Mana could just easily look up everything online but continues to tell her about the “fun” taxi ride, how the city looks at night and the ridiculously wide selection of instant noodles.

They fall into comfortable small talk as Atem asks Mana about her day, and if Mahad and dad are doing alright. Mana complains about a particularly uncooperative investor, who got on everyone’s nerves at the meeting, and that Aknamkanon considered just dropping the deal altogether. Other than that, business is going as usual and everyone’s doing just fine. She goes on to talk about some work related stuff she learned from Mahad, and Atem just leans back on the sofa and appreciates the sound of her voice.

Mana ends the call not long after, her lunch break coming to an end. She promises to say hello to Mahad and Aknamkanon from Atem and tells him to call home whenever he feels like talking to them.

There are 6 missed calls from Malik and a long dramatic message about how Atem doesn’t write him anymore, that Neo Domino turned him into a complete stranger in less than a day - what a tragic ending to a beautiful friendship of ten years. Atem keeps snorting throughout the entire message, the ending making him burst out laughing.

He sends back a quick ‘Who is this? Delete this number please’ and puts the pad away in favor of finishing setting up proxy links and a timed network hopper.

Online surveillance is a pretty big thing here, and if you don’t know how to work your way around various restrictions and IP blocks, a fairly large part of the internet is instantly unavailable. If the system catches you accessing these “illegal” sites, a hefty fine and increased monitoring awaits but Atem doesn’t plan on getting caught.

Besides, it’s pretty stupid that something like Youtube is banned here, like, seriously? What do people even do on the internet here then? Read the news over and over?

Malik must’ve been staring at his pad, waiting for his friend to reply, because as soon as Atem begins coding, his pad starts ringing. He considers not answering the call to aggravate Malik even more, the guy gets hilariously dramatic when someone ignores him, especially on purpose, but decides against it and picks up his pad with a mock sigh.

“If you don’t stop harassing me, I will notify your ID and block your number,” Atem deadpans.

There’s a loud gasp on the other end and Malik is probably doing one of his woe-is-me poses.

“Block? ME? Please tell it ain’t so. My ears are probably deceiving me right now, to think that the great Atem is threatening to cut ties.”

Atem rolls his eyes, snorts and finally gives a cheerful, “Hey, Malik, how’ve you been?”

“Sad and lonely since you left,” Malik sniffles as if he’s about to cry and then let’s out a loud chuckle. “It hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since I last saw you, can’t really say that anything changed at all, besides you leaving that is.”

“Touché.”

“Anyways, I didn’t call you just to cry about how much I miss you already. The bike should arrive to Neo Domino on Sunday.” That gives Atem a whole day for more research. Or just more time to dick around the internet, it’s not like he hasn’t spent months intensely gathering everything that there can be found online about motorbike racing in Neo Domino.

Atem promises to take good care of the bike and to bring it back in one piece, not believing in what he’s saying for even a second. Malik instantly calls bullshit too. “Dude, you’re getting into racing, gang racing at that, I doubt that bike will have any of its original parts when you’re gonna be done with it.”

Atem's about to begin apologizing but Malik cuts him off. He reassures that it's alright, it's not like Malik doesn't have a dozen other bikes so just chill and do what you have to do to win. “It would be nice to get the bike back when you return though, in no matter what state it may be in. Sentimental value, you know,” he adds in the end.

Malik gets excited about Atem racing and rants about how he wishes he could just drop everything and join him. On some part, Atem wishes that his friend were here too, it would be much more fun roaming the streets of Neo Domino with someone accompanying him. It would be like the good old days, when both of them used to drive around Khemet without a care in the world.

"It's weird, you know, not having you here," Malik's voice becomes less cheerful. "I was just about to drop by your place for a visit. I only remembered that you're out of the country when I was about to ring the doorbell."

Silence falls after that. Atem stares at the floor for a long time and Malik doesn't say anything, probably waiting for Atem to just simply respond.

"It feels weird being here too, not seeing you guys every waking moment." Atem’s voice comes off as tad too sad, so quickly he adds, "Constantly pestering me," to lighten up the mood at least a bit.

Atem doesn't want to talk about how fucking lonely he already feels, feeling like he might break down again if he starts thinking about it too much. And Malik isn't exactly the best person in front of whom to have an emotional breakdown. He might do something stupid like drop his job and fly over.

Malik takes the pretty obvious hint to change the subject. "Oh don't you worry your pretty little head, Princess. Just because you're way over there doesn't mean you're free from me. Expect at least three calls a day and constant messages because I'll go insane if I don't talk to anyone else besides those old farts. Small talk to them means ‘let’s talk about taxes and world economy’, like, are you fucking serious?"

"Should I remind you that you employed them yourself?"

"I only did that because Rishid recommended them to me!" Malik screeches into his pad.

-

Just as Atem predicted, he spent all Saturday lying in bed, watching videos and reading forum posts. Ah, he knows himself so well.

Of course, he has trouble falling asleep that night too, but this time it’s because he gets too excited about the bike arriving. He spends hours just imagining himself riding the motorcycle, feeling the wind in his hair and the rush of adrenalin in his bloodstream. He passes out in the early hours of the morning, a dopey smile plastered on his face.

Sunday morning comes and sure enough, there’s a notification on his pad that he received a shipment. He has to retrieve it from the Neo Domino Central Post Office himself as there were no further instructions to deliver the package to him personally.

NDCPO is relatively close to the heart of the city and Atem opts to travel by train in the underground railway. That taxi ride didn’t leave the best impression and he isn’t ready to relive it if he happens to get a jet car again. There’s a station just a street down and a bullet train going every 10 minutes straight to the city center.

The train ride is… really fucking awful. He regrets not taking a taxi, at least there he wouldn’t be squeezed to death by a mass of people. He had to elbow his way through just to board the train and whenever people got off, the Egyptian would be pushed out with the leaving passengers and would have to re-board the train with the incoming ones. This lasts for a good 40 minutes and Atem beams with joy once he gets off the train for good and exits the station.

The Central Square is a big mess of people, even more impossibly humongous buildings, LED screens and neon. Everything in this city is fucking neon, what a surprise. Nonetheless, it’s breathtaking in its own, eye irritating, way.

According to the map, he has to go to the other side of Central Square, past Kaiba Corp. headquarters, and go left when he reaches Domino Hotel.

NDCPO is surprisingly the only building around that isn’t flashing in neon but it’s in a particularly ugly shade of yellow so it isn’t much of an improvement. The Egyptian steps inside and doesn’t waste any time, going straight to the nearest free attendant.

There’s not much paperwork, thank god, and Atem is soon following another attendant through a set of narrow corridors towards the back, where the warehouse is. The crate is conveniently placed near the gate; the attendant motions for some workers to come over and open it.  The wooden front panel splinters under the pressure of a couple of crowbars and it falls off, revealing the beauty that lies inside.

The bike is rolled out of the crate, its sleek surface reflecting the warehouse lights once it’s out of the shadows. It’s a black 2119 Honda NM9, the forefather of all the bikes that are produced around the world today. It’s Malik’s original bike, the first one he ever bought, and Atem’s very touched that Malik gave him something so precious. Upon closer inspection, it appears that his friend had given the bike a bit of a makeover: it looks like the bottom was dipped in gold paint and there’s a Wadjet Eye on both sides of the fairing. It’s something so simple but it reminds Atem of Egypt and makes him smile just a bit.

He signs off the last reception form, eager to get on the motorcycle and just ride off. He finds a helmet and a pair of goggles under the seat; there’s also a note at the bottom of the glove compartment under some leather gloves and keys. Atem squints and tries to decipher the message, Malik’s chicken scratch barely readable.

He manages to make out something about a new 20A-19 (?) engine, triple lithium batteries and quadruple nitro boosters. The rest is probably just more upgrades so Atem tucks the note in his pocket and puts on the goggles and the gloves – he’ll ask Malik about them later.

He mounts the bike and the heavy weight under him feels so familiar it’s comforting. A sense of urgency, the need to just get out and ride washes over the Egyptian, so he turns off the kill-switch and quickly jams the key into the ignition system.  He nervously grabs onto the handle, squeezes the clutch lever tight, takes a deep breath –manages not to choke on air- and twists his right hand.

The beast comes to life with a roar on the first try, the system display lighting up in greeting. Atem gives the throttle a few experimental twists, the bike responding to each one with a deep rumble. Content, he gives the dash a few pats, checks the vitals one more time – thank you dear Malik for charging the bike before sending it over – kicks the stand up and roars out of the warehouse through the now open gates.

The streets are too packed this close to the city center, leaving not much room to gain speed. He has to check the GPS for the nearest highway exit – only there can the bike’s full potential be tested.

A dozen red lights and traffic jams later, Atem separates himself from the mass of vehicles and enters route I3F. It’s crowded too but everyone’s speeding here and there’s space, so much space to move. He smoothly switches through gears as he picks up speed and zips through 4 lanes in one go, moving closer to the road barrier where there are fewer cars.

The vast road stretches before Atem and he tears through it, easily passing other drivers. He doesn’t even know where it’s going, where he’ll find himself after; his focus on the highway and the machine beneath him, the heat and steady hum that the engine produces.

Wind is playing with his hair, there’s constant whistling in his ears and Atem rushes, twists the throttle as far back as it can go before switching to a higher gear. The city around him blurs, neon signs now just streaks of light flashing by.

There’s a car upfront, nearing fast, and he speeds up even more.  He gains up on it and at the speed he’s going, Atem’s going to crash into it in just a few seconds. Four meters, three meters, two meters, one – the front wheel is mere centimeters away from the car’s rear bumper. He should be slamming the rear brakes now or easing his grip on the throttle but he doesn’t. He gives the left handlebar a quick push and the bike swerves onto another lane, avoiding collision.

Adrenalin rushes through his body, it feels like his heart is about to beat out of his chest and this - this is the feeling that Atem loves, could bask in forever. He could’ve crashed, could’ve died there on the spot but he didn’t; he’s here, still among the living, and it feels fucking fantastic.

His chest feels full and he doesn’t even try to hold in the bubbled up laughter, letting the wind carry the merry sound behind him. He would throw up his hands in the air too if he didn’t have to actually steer the bike.

As he’s bypassing the car, he checks out the driver, who gives Atem a look like he’s about to run him over. He just flashes his best smile and drives on.

-

The whole day is spent just driving around, following the highway to nowhere and everywhere. Atem takes a break a couple of times whenever there are scenic stops - where the highway towers over small scale structures - to stretch out and to take pictures of the city landscape for Mana.

The sky gradually turns into a shade of dark blue, the orange glow of the city never quite letting it become completely black. It’s been overcast the whole day and it doesn’t look like the clouds will disperse any time soon. Atem will have to wait to see the sun, though the question is whether Neo Domino even gets to see the sun at all.  Another big downside, with the sky being as it is and the intense light at night, is that there are zero chances to see the stars. _Hell, is the moon even visible here? Stupid question - of course it’s visible, but do the people actually get to see it?_

Atem rides back to his apartment thinking about home and the starry night sky that he’s missing out on.

-

There’s a shared underground parking space beneath his and some other neighboring complexes but it gives off such bad vibes that Atem backpedals out of there as soon as he sees a couple of men huddling around  an improvised bonfire burning inside a metal barrel. For now, he has to keep the bike in the apartment, until a safe place to store it is found.

A few people give him weird looks as he rolls the bike into the elevator but he just ignores them. _Is it that weird for a guy to keep his ride in his flat?_

There isn’t any room in the narrow apartment hallway so the bike is placed behind the sofa and it takes up a noticeable portion of the living room. It looks so out of place. Atem stares at it for a couple of minutes and shrugs. “It’s not like I’m planning on having guests or anything.”

A quick shower later, he is leaning on the kitchen counter, fiddling with the laptop, waiting for the water to heat so that he could boil some eggs for dinner. He’s on the banned part of the internet, on an anonymous message board specifically created to discuss the motorbike scene of Neo Domino. There are a couple of new threads about the ongoing fight for territory between the “Clowns” and the “Hatchet Sisters”, a 376 post thread debating whether it’s better to use dry cell batteries or gel ones or even a mix and a maxed out thread about a skirmish that happened between the “Dragon Riders” and the “King of Games” last night.

Atem clicks on the maxed out thread and scrolls down at lightning speed, scanning through the posts. Kaiba had yet again challenged Yugi for another rematch and apparently Mr. CEO deliberately almost crashed into an incoming truck just to win. There are a few blurry pictures of the racers zipping through the streets and one post has a video attached; someone had filmed Yugi flinging off his helmet after the race and storming over to a very gleeful looking Kaiba to give him an earful about actually caring about one’s fucking life, he has a company and brother to look after for god’s sake. After that they shake hands, an acknowledgement of the skirmish’s outcome, and part ways. The video cuts off just as Yugi turns back to retrieve his helmet, a flash of gold momentarily causing a lens flare.

Most of the posters think along the same lines as Atem, that it’s a really fucked up trick to win the race and that King did the right thing by stopping before things got way too far. Racing may be one’s life but it shouldn’t be something to die for, especially for a simple skirmish that doesn’t even officially mean anything. Atem’s already sizeable admiration for Yugi grows even further; he truly deserves to be called the “King of Games”.

Yugi Mutou, widely known as the king of racing in Neo Domino, is the reason why Atem hauled his ass over half of the world to this dingy little apartment. Or to be more specific, it’s because he is the current owner of the Millennium Puzzle.

Atem had gotten to a point that the nightmares were so bad he was jumping at the mere sight of his own shadow and they left him so exhausted that he was basically a walking zombie during daytime. He tried everything, even visited the best shrink in all of Egypt to see if there’s something wrong with his subconscious but nope, his mind’s okay, though he is a bit sleep deprived. ‘A bit’ was putting it really mildly.

After a particularly bad night he just got fed up and decided that fuck it, if the shadows want their Puzzle, they will fucking get it. It’s not like he has much to lose, except maybe time and money, but at this point he was just about to do anything to get back to normal.

He grilled dad for any information he had on the Millennium Items, but he only vaguely remembered a story about how it was big news when an excavation team found the gold box with the puzzle pieces inside a freshly discovered Pharaoh tomb in the Valley of the Kings. Engraved writings and the very specific Wadjet eye clearly indicated that it was one of the seven Millennium Items, which rightfully belonged to the Sennen – Atem’s – family as they were an ancient family heirloom, passed down from generation to generation. The Puzzle never reached their hands though, vanishing the night before the Sennen family came to retrieve it.

He figured that there must be news about the Puzzle and its disappearance online but there was nothing, internet articles going only as far back as the early 2000s and the online archives barely had any newspapers stored. He had nothing left to do but to travel to the National Library and Archives of Egypt and spend weeks sitting in a dimly lit basement, breathing in dust and sifting through the never ending piles of boxes. It really didn’t help that Atem didn’t even know the decade the damned thing was discovered in. In the end he found more than a dozen newspapers, with pictures at that, detailing the finding and the highly possible theft of the Puzzle and its connection to the Sennen family. The Puzzle was never found and there were no leads as to who took it, no duplicates ever popped up.

 Atem kinda already knew that he wouldn’t find out anything more than what dad had already told, but at least he had photos. He scanned the pictures and put it through an image recognition program, hoping that in the vast internet image catalogue there were other photos of the Puzzle. At that point, he was grasping at straws and it looked like the program was going to find nothing, only pulling up images of the rest of the Millennium Items and then basically anything that had a Wadjet eye on it.

This continued for a good few months, with Atem holed up in his room, just staring at his computer screen for hours on end. His friends would try to take him outside as much as possible, obviously worrying that this obsession was going a bit out of hand. Malik would even use his lunch-breaks to drive over from one side of Khemet to the other to drag him out for bike rides, even if they could only drive around for 15 minutes tops. Even then, he would just tune out whatever Malik would be shouting over his shoulder, his focus solely on the Millennium Puzzle every single waking moment.

The dreams had gotten especially bad at that point. He would fall asleep and there would be nothing more than screeching, a continuous shriek of “FIND IT FIND IT FIND IT FIND IT” waking Atem up drenched in sweat and tears and making him crawl to the computer to check. _Maybe this was the day? Maybe it finally found a picture, please, God, please, I need just one picture_. He couldn’t even say how many nights went by like this.

One day dad had had enough and threatened to cut the power supply. Atem was a big mess, barely even functioning on a basic human level, and it really hurt his father to see him like this. And fuck, he knew this was taking a big toll on him, but he asked for more time, to give him at least a week, a picture will surely come up by the end of it. Very reluctantly, dad agreed - Atem had to basically beg him into doing so, but if nothing came up, he had to drop this Puzzle hunt immediately.

And it was as if the gods had heard Atem’s pleas because when he returned to his room after the talk, hundreds upon hundreds of photos were flooding the computer screen, showing a Japanese teen with wild colorful hair and there, smack dab in the middle of most photos, was the completed Millennium Puzzle, hanging off the teen’s neck by a chain. At first he did a double take, not believing that the program had actually found what he had been so desperate to find, and yet, after closer inspection, it was true - it had found it. He compared the pendant to the photos he had of the laid out Puzzle pieces and it matched - all of the separate parts matched the whole thing.

Atem would be lying if he said that he didn’t break down right there and then. For more than three months he had ignored everything, did nothing else but just look for the damned Puzzle and here it finally was, the Wadjet eye boring holes into him through the screen.

That was the first of the several following nights that he actually fully slept through, his dreams silent and peaceful, with no shadows to paint them black and shout at him. Well rested, he even joined dad for breakfast the next morning before he left for work and visited Malik in his office before his buddy started his lunch-break.

Everyone was ecstatic over the news of him finding the Puzzle. Atem was still tired most of the time, but now he was eating and actually going out with Mahad and Mana in the evenings on his own free will. His friends never left his side throughout this whole ordeal and fuck, he felt like such an asshole for ignoring them most of the time, he couldn’t stop apologizing every time he saw them.

This calm period didn’t last for long though - after a couple of weeks the shadows started reappearing in his dreams again. It wasn’t as intense as before, now they just whispered Atem’s name over and over, but it was enough to disrupt his sleep. He took it as a sign that he might have to find the Puzzle, like, locate the actual physical object and probably bring it back to Egypt.

At least finding out who that Japanese guy is wasn’t hard, all he had to do was back-trace the photos to where they were originally posted and voila. They took Atem to a forum archive and he had to scroll through six years worth of posts on this guy just to get some decent info.

Apparently his name’s Yugi Mutou, although most posters referred to him as “King” or “King of Games”, the leader of the top dog bike gang in Neo Domino called the “Players” and also the winner of every underground racing tournament for six years at the time. The very first threads about this guy basically detailed King’s sudden appearance on the scene and his steady rise in fame as _the_ perfect rider, his ultimate defeat of Kaiba in the first tournament he ever participated in, securing the boy the title by which he’s known now.

Those old threads had lots of videos of the races and randomly caught skirmishes and Atem had spent hours watching them, never taking his eyes off of Yugi. He’s no racer himself, never really had an inclination for this kind of thing, but the way Yugi drives, gracefully outmaneuvers his opponents, is truly a sight to behold and it made the Egyptian want to go out and just challenge someone to a race. Hell, after watching enough videos he woke up Malik in like 3 in the morning to do just that.

At first Atem thought that okay, he’ll go over to Neo Domino and buy the Millenium Puzzle off of him, shouldn’t be a problem. But as he kept reading the threads it became apparent that Yugi was quite an elusive persona, hard to find and even harder to approach; as soon as there are news that he’s spotted hanging at the “Landstar” lounge, the only place you can find him outside of tournaments, the King vanishes in an instant. Sometimes you can get really lucky and see him riding around his turf with the other “Players” but there are zero chances that he’ll stop to talk to a stranger, especially if you don’t have a bike and enough street cred. So he figured that if he wanted to even speak to Yugi, he’d have to actually participate in said tournaments and getting a bike gang of his own would probably help him immensely as well.

Cue a couple of months more of Atem gathering all the information there was on the net about Neo Domino’s underground racing scene, all the bike gangs and the leaders, their districts and the most notable lone riders. He also spent a good portion of that time speeding with Malik through the streets of Khemet at night, practicing figure-8s and hard braking, learning to navigate sharp corners and narrow alleyways.

And now he finds himself here, in Neo Domino, staring at the face of Yugi Mutou, radiant violet eyes staring back at him from the computer screen.


	2. Chapter 2

The 49th district, along with the 47th, 48th and 50th, is the home turf of the “Night Crawlers”. Internal power struggles, recent territory losses and a good portion of the members abandoning the gang left it in quite a bad spot. If it continues on like this, the gang will have to disband and leave the remaining districts for the other gangs to take. And Atem picked this place specifically to speed up the process. Might as well take it over and make it his if the “Night Crawlers” are doomed to end sooner or later, he’ll need a place for his own gang once he gets one. Eventually.

For now, his plan is to test out his own capabilities against the remaining members, to grasp the feeling of racing. He’ll have to go against the leader if he wants to completely drive out the group but it’s not something that Atem feels he has enough experience to do. Khemet doesn’t really have an underground racing scene or bike gangs at that, and the only races he ever had were with Malik and even then, they were more like playful speeding towards a specific point for fun. In this city, people race for territories and reputation, fun not being that much of a priority.

Atem pulls on his 2-piece, grabs his helmet and rolls out the bike through the back doors, into the back alley of the apartment complex. The tall buildings cast a bit of shade here, shrouding the very narrow passage in darkness. Nightfall is approaching fast and it’s the perfect time to go out to drive around and get a better understanding of his home turf. He won’t be able to check the map whenever he gets lost or doesn’t know a specific place so he has to learn the streets by heart.

He starts up the bike and takes off, twisting through the narrow alley into traffic. It isn’t very crowded but the frequent stoplights don’t allow Atem to drive at the speed he’d like to. He keeps driving though, switching between wider roads and back alleys, weaving through lined cars. Sometimes he passes a car a bit too close and the driver just blasts the horn, startling him. _Rude much_.

As night comes the city is slowly dyed orange, neon lights intensifying. Atem sits out the rush hour in an American style diner, absently stirring his coffee. As soon as it lets up, he’s almost running out of the place.

Now, when there are only a few drivers on the streets, he drives less cautiously, does bigger curves on the turns without the worry that he’ll crash into another vehicle. He tries his best to memorize the more noticeable places and not just speed past them. A mechanics shop on the corner of 48th district’s main street, a police station just down the same road, a whole school campus bordering the first highway exit on the 50th and a shitton of shopping markets and diners. There’s a particular street on the 47th that’s just throngs of street vendors – a marketplace of some sorts.

The alley ways are a bit harder to navigate, mainly because of their limited space, copious amounts of trash and people that pop up from thin air. He almost drives the bike into a wall trying to avoid a person who decides to rise from the piles of newspapers they were sleeping in to stretch out a bit in the middle of the back alley.

The later/earlier it gets, the more Atem feels confident in driving. He still has a lot to learn but this little drive around gives him the self-esteem boost that he sorely needed.

-

He’s waiting over at the service station, charging his bike, when another biker drives in to give their bike a quick power boost. The bulky guy takes off his helmet, puts it on the seat of the bike and turns to grab the charger. There’s quite the distance between them but Atem immediately recognizes the stylized possum logo stitched onto the back of the driver’s jacket.

It’s one of the members of the “Night Crawlers”.

The biker turns back and plugs his bike; Atem quickly averts his gaze, trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at the guy. It seems that the Crawler didn’t notice him and he lets out a sigh of relief.

He looks down at his bike, stares at it for a good few minutes, glances a couple of times at the guy. Then he gets a very stupid idea.

Atem checks the charge meter – it’s almost full – disconnects the charger, pays up, mounts the bike and flips the helmet’s visor down. He makes a big display of starting and revving it up and this immediately catches the Crawler’s attention.

He slowly rides up to the guy, stops just a mere meter away, parallel to the parked bike, and pointedly looks at him, saying nothing. Through his tinted visor he sees the rider’s expression turn from a confused to an irritated one, lips twisting into a scowl.

“Whatcha looking at? Ya want something?” the Crawler’s voice comes off as a growl.

Atem stares just a bit longer, until he sees the guy’s hands ball into fists. He lifts the visor just enough to reveal his mouth to the other. “There’s a tech shop next to the third exit into I3F.”

This confuses the Crawler; his brows furrow and he shoots Atem a questioning look. “Yeah, there’s a tech shop there. What ‘bout it?”

The Egyptian gives the bike a quick rev. “Wanna race to it?”

The Crawler gives his bike a once-over and barks out a laugh. “I’ll leave ya in the dust. That bike of yers is quite ancient - it doesn’t have a chance against mine.”

“Are you scared?”

“What?”

“You scared that this old thing will beat your ass?” Though his face is partly obscured, Atem smirks.

Just as the posts pointed out, it’s hilariously easy to provoke a member of the “Night Crawlers”. The guy gives Atem another scowl and quickly disconnects his bike from the charging station.

“Straight ride to the shop, no funny business. Ya lil’ punk don’t even know who yer messing with.”

Atem’s about to give a sassy remark but given the guys massive build and an incredibly short temper, keeps any comments to himself. The guy looks like someone who would get physical once riled up too much and he doesn’t want to become a stain on the pavement just yet.

They align their bikes bellow a stoplight. Vivid red shines down and the Egyptian stares at it, his right leg slightly jittering on the peg as they’re waiting for the light to change.

Time seems to crawl at a snail’s pace and Atem is getting nervous by the second. Full realization of what he’s about to do hits him when the light flicks to yellow and he breaks out in a cold sweat, his hands start shaking. _Okay, I don’t want this anymore, I wanna get off this bike and lie down and-_

His inner rambling is stopped once the light turns green and he sees the Crawler tear off. He stares at the guy’s back, at a loss of what to do.

Maybe he should just go back home for today. He was never really the racing type anyway, what is he even trying to prove right now? He’s still too new, too inexperienced. That confidence boost went straight to his head, made him a bit too cocky and now he’s stuck here.

The image of King and the Millennium Puzzle flashes through Atem’s mind and fuck.

If he can’t even do a simple race right now, how will he race later? If he doesn’t do this now, how will he face the King, knowing that he chickened out of a race he initiated?

Atem’s grip on the handles tightens and he leans a bit forward, trying to convince his rigid hands to move.

It doesn’t matter how it will end, what matters is that he didn’t back out.

He twists the throttle back, draws in his left leg and the bike lurches forward. The motorcycle rapidly gains momentum and he switches gears once he feels the tug of the engine; Atem needs to go even faster. The Crawler is a speck in the distance only visible by his bike’s glowing rear lights; it’s quite a long stretch of road to catch up to the guy but Atem knows that he’ll do it.

The tech shop is right where the 50th district connects to the highway and it’s a straight road to get there from the 47th. Atem wastes no time and manages to catch up to the Crawler, their bikes now going nose to nose. He estimates that they have probably already covered half of the route.

They speed past a couple of cars; both racers quite easily maneuver their way around them and continue on, still going side by side.

The highway is becoming more visible as they speed towards it and he shifts gears yet again, this time leaving the Crawler behind him. He glances back to check on the guy once the corner tech shop is visible; he’s lagging behind quite badly, a couple of hundred meters separating them now. Relieved, the Egyptian downshifts a gear, eases his grip on the throttle. Once he passes the shop, he pushes on the brakes hard, leaving skid marks behind.

Atem rights his bike, straightens up and looks back to the other driver. His bike is losing speed the closer it gets to the tech shop and it never quite passes it at the end.

The Crawler parks his motorcycle and violently yanks off his helmet, very red in the face. “Ya fucker, ya only won because my bike ran out of fucking juice.” He spits on the ground and raises a fist in Atem’s direction. “If I ever see ya again, we’ll have a rematch and you won’t be winning it.”

Atem drives off after that, not wanting to listen to the man’s rants about finding a service station, feeling too tired to continue driving around.

-

That Crawler wasn’t kidding when he said that he’ll beat Atem.

He was out at night again, exploring the city, when that same guy found him. This time he had a couple of other Crawlers with him, “To see that the race goes fair and square,” as the rider put it.

The finish line was the police station on the 48th but they had to drive through a couple of checkpoints while getting there. At first Atem felt quite confident, he actually knew where the places were, and it started off promising but soon he either kept getting lost in the back alleys or stuck at dead ends.

He lost that night. And a few nights after that too.

Following the few consecutive defeats, Atem started driving more through the alleys and less on the roads - he had to learn the fastest routes – and began venturing into other districts as well. He was spending so much time on the bike that he basically only went back home to eat, talk to either Malik or Mana and just sleep through the day.

This went on for quite some time but it was worth it. After three weeks of nothing but winding streets and underground passages, Atem knew his and the neighboring districts in and out.

The second victory tasted so sweet that he went out to eat instead of making himself instant noodles for the fifth night in a row.

His sudden appearance on the biking scene started making waves on the forum too. There were two threads on him now. On the first people are just mainly excited about having a fresh face, there are a couple of videos and photos of his winning race and an ongoing debate about his identity. The posters are calling him “Mystery Rider” for now, until the strange newcomer decides to fully reveal himself.

The second thread though…

It’s titled “Is Mystery Rider part of the Illuminati???” and Atem squints at his computer screen, confused. _Did I read that right?_

He clicks on it and once he sees the picture edits, he just knows. It’s one of those shitpost threads, started by none other but PuzzleFucker69. They’re one of the few registered users that actually have an account on the site and they’re widely known for coming up with the wildest shit about the King. Fuck, Atem doesn’t want this nutjob getting a fixation on him too.

He scrolls past a few more edits and posters begging the mod to ban PuzzleFucker69 again and stops by a GIF. It keeps zooming in awfully slowly into Atem’s bike’s headlight and he keeps staring, just waiting for the “Illuminati confirmed” to pop up. Instead, the focus quickly shifts to a window in the background with the Illuminati eye on it and “GOTCHA” flashes for a couple of seconds before the GIF restarts.

Atem slams his laptop shut.

-

During the following couple of weeks, there are a few more rematches against the “Night Crawlers”. Atem manages to win those too but most of the time they’re really close calls. When competing, he’s still a bit too nervous on the bike and it shows in the way how he sometimes drives into a turn too early or momentarily stalls when the race starts. His constantly jittering leg is a dead giveaway too.

But that doesn’t discourage him by the least. The only way to get over it, to get better, is to race even more and he does just that.

He starts actively challenging the Crawlers every night, even going as far as waiting for the members to come out of “Dead Bait”, the bar the group favors as their main meeting place. He wins some, loses some, but it’s good practice and Atem isn’t complaining at all.

After a whole month of racing against the Mystery Rider every single night, the Crawlers start avoiding him whenever they spot him cruising around. It’s a bit hilarious to see 4 quite well built guys bolting right back into the bar but it hinders his training since the gang members quite literally start vanishing from the streets.

One night he manages to spot and chase down a Crawler into a dead end.

The guy’s visibly frustrated once he sees the predicament he’s in. “Okay, Mystery Dude, or whatever they call you. Listen, I don’t want any of this racing business, so could you please just fuck off?”

“Can’t really just “fuck off” since I have no one to race against these days.”

“Probably should’ve thought about that before you started fucking pestering our group.” And Atem has to admit, the Crawler has a point there. “Thanks to you, we’re almost all out of members. Ain’t nobody wanting to drive around with you terrorizing the streets, going “Race me, race me” all the damn time!”

The guy slams his fist on the bike’s dashboard and Atem winces. He might’ve become maybe a little too enthusiastic once he got the hang of racing.

The Egyptian leans back in his seat and folds his arms over his chest. “I won’t race you,” the Crawler’s shoulders sag in relief, “but then tell me - where is your leader right now?”

The guy raises one brow. “Nadia? Dude, I don’t really like you, but trust me, racing her right now would be suicide. She’s ready to skin anyone after losing the 47th to the Clowns and you’ve been a pain in her ass for a good month now.”

If the group is going downhill that fast, Atem might as well just do it. He’s read that Nadia, aka “Bone Crusher”, is quite the nasty rider, known for resorting to dirty tricks when desperate, but her bike’s build is quite shit when it comes to speed. Depending on the race, Atem has a high chance of actually winning. “Then I should pay her a visit, apologize for being such an asshole.”

The Crawler shakes his head in disbelief. “You really have a death wish, don’t you? She should still be in “Dead Bait” if she hasn’t stormed off yet.”

Atem just nods and turns, adjusts his visor, ready to drive off.

“Lady Luck is shinning down on you if you survive this night.”

The Egyptian gives the Crawler a quick thumbs up before speeding out.

-

There’s nervous excitement filling his chest as Atem descends into the basement bar. This is going to be the race that determines if he can actually become someone here, will show how much he has learned.

He pulls the door open and steps into a dimly lit room, loud music blasting from the speakers. It’s almost empty, save for the bored looking bartender and a group of jacket-clad people, gathered around a table at the back. And there, at the end of it, is Bone Crusher, smashing a fellow gang member’s head into an ashtray.

She slams it down a couple of times more, blood spilling from the guy’s mouth and nose onto the table, but stops once she senses another presence in the bar. Her stormy gaze settles on Atem and a shiver runs down his spine. Fuck, she looks really really pissed.

“You have some business here?” she sneers as she lets go of the poor guy’s head. The dude’s body goes slack on the table, unmoving. The gathered members look over in Atem’s direction.

The same bulky Crawler that Atem had first challenged all those nights ago gives out a shout of recognition, “It’s that fucker that keeps racing against us!”

Bone Crusher’s eyes narrow and she bares her teeth. “You chose the wrong time to waltz in here, Rider.”

Atem can definitely see that but he can’t turn back now. Who knows when there’ll be another chance to find Bone Crusher. She’s not the type to roam the streets day in and day out and this bar isn’t the gang’s only meeting place.

 _Okay, keep it short and straight to the point_.

“I came here with a proposal,” Atem tries not to sound too nervous.

“Then spit it out,” she sneers and slams her open palm on the table, making the other Crawlers jump from the sudden sound.

The Egyptian visibly flinches but continues. “We race, one on one. If you win, you never see me again on these streets. If I win though, you have to disband.”

The leader straightens up and crosses her arms. She keeps staring at Atem, thinking over the offer. He spares a quick glance at the bartender then, who’s slightly shaking his head and giving Atem a ‘you will probably die, buddy’ look.

“We meet in front of the mech’s in 48th in 15. Prepare to eat the asphalt, Rider.”

-

Word got around that Mystery Rider is going against Bone Crusher so when Atem made it to the shop, he was greeted by a crowd cheering out his ‘name’. He drove up to Nadia, confusedly looking around at the gathered people. He knew from the forum that people were interested in him, even going as far as coming up with wild theories about his origins – probably the most amusing one being that he’s actually the King in disguise, and Atem can only wish that he’d be someone like him – but he never thought that his presence would attract so much people, that they would root for him. It feels… nice.

“Quite the crowd you’ve gathered, Rider,” Bone Crusher remarks, keeping her gaze on the road before her.

Atem doesn’t respond. They stay silent for a while, until she picks up her helmet and mounts her bike.

“The course is 3 laps around the 48th district, no backdoors allowed,” she loudly announces to the gathered people. They give out a loud cheer and then fall silent as a Crawler steps out into the middle of the street.

Bone Crusher only now turns to look at Atem. She gives the Egyptian a smirk and drags her thumb over her neck before putting on the helmet. _Well isn't she nice_.

The Crawler raises his hand. Atem gets anxious waiting for it to drop. He keeps revving up the bike, his right leg unconsciously jittering again. The fucker is probably dragging this out on purpose, to make him nervous.

It drops, the crowd roars and both racers tear off, the initial burnout of the rear tires leaving a cloud of smoke behind.

Atem expects Bone Crusher to lag behind after a few hundred meters but they keep going at the same pace, which can only mean that she got a better engine and probably an extra battery. This is going to be troublesome but as long as she doesn’t have nitro boosters, he should be good in the speed department.

The first turn comes up and he’s waiting for the funny business that she’s known for to start up but nothing happens. Nothing happens on the other three turns too, they pass the start line and the second lap goes by just the same.

If he was a bit nervous before, now he was starting to panic. Bone Crusher doesn’t operate like this, she doesn’t do clean races. Nadia didn’t get a name like that for nothing.

They pass the start line side by side, starting the last lap.

They’re approaching the first turn again and Atem gets ready to pull a quick sharp turn. Just as he’s about to lean a bit to the right, Bone Crusher nears him, their bikes’ sides almost touching. She tries to grab onto his bike’s left handle but he bats her hand away.

Wrong move.

She quickly snatches his hand in a vice grip and tries to push him over. The Egyptian momentarily loses his balance, the bike wobbles and he has to slow down. She let’s go and drives on, smoothly makes the turn. Now Atem’s left behind, but once he gets a hold of the handlebar with both of his hands and rights the bike, he soon follows after, skidding a bit too much at the turn.

He catches up but now trails after Bone Crusher. Fucking idiot, should’ve seen that she’ll try to push him off his bike - it’s the easiest trick in the book.

The other racer quickly glances over her back and shit, this can only go one way.

Atem decelerates, puts some distance between them. Just as he though, Nadia plunges her hand into the left saddlebag, grabs a handful of caltrops and throws them over her shoulder. They scatter everywhere, the little metal spikes glinting even from afar.

He steers the bike to the edge of the road, missing the first batch of spikes. This goes on for a good stretch of time, Bone Crusher showering the street in caltrops and Atem trying his best to avoid them, going from one end of the street to the other. It’s a miracle that he doesn’t drive over any of them.

The second turn is soon coming up. Nadia stops dropping spikes, holds a fist up high – that’s probably the last handful. She let’s go of them as she’s making the turn and they scatter.

Atem has to almost fully stop as he drives up to the turn because fuck, there’s barely a patch of pavement that isn’t covered in spikes. He pushes his bike through the corner as swiftly as he can, careful not to accidentally roll onto one, all the while his mind’s screaming at him to hurry the fuck up, Bone Crusher is probably halfway to the third turn.

He pulls the throttle as far back as it goes and the motorcycle jerks forward. He gains up on Nadia as she’s rounding the third corner and they both skid, Atem barely avoiding crashing into her as he drives into the turn a bit too late.

This time he outruns Bone Crusher, planning on leaving her as far back as possible. For a while it seems like he’ll be in the lead but a quick glance back reveals Nadia hot on his heels and – _is that a fucking pipe wrench?_

She accelerates even more and swings the tool down. It hits the tail light and it shatters. She drives in closer, swings the wrench sideways and it almost connects with Atem’s back.

The Egyptian tries to put more distance between them but Bone Crusher’s persistent, following right behind, swinging the damned wrench non-stop. She manages to land a hit on his right shoulder when he fails to dodge and the pain is instant, spreading all over his right upper body, causing his arm to shake. He grips the throttle even harder and tries not to let go.

The last turn is almost here; if Nadia keeps going at him, he’ll never make it. He pushes down on the rear brake and ducks his head down, barely avoiding the swing that was aimed at it. Bone Crusher runs past him, looking back in confusion.

Atem let’s her turn first, soon following after. It’s homestretch now, not much left to the finish line. If he wants to win this, he’ll have to somehow bypass Nadia; an almost impossible task as long as she has that pipe wrench on her.

In the distance, he can make out the fast approaching finish line and the people crowding around it.

He has to use the nitro boosters.

His left thumb hovers over the button – fuck, he hasn’t even tested them out. There was never a need for them and how does it even feel, driving at nitro speed? How fast is it? All these questions keep popping up in his head and his shoulder starts aching even more and the finish is only a few hundred meters away – Atem grits his teeth and presses the button.

He waits for the bike to lurch forward but it never does, just smoothly zooms onwards. Everything around him becomes a colorful blur, neon turning into long streaks of light. The only thing that isn’t bleary is the finish line ahead and it feels like he’s driving through a tunnel to get to it.

The nitro boost lasts only a few more seconds and he comes to a full stop a good distance away from the finish line, a bit disoriented from the experience. Everything in his vision leaves a trace as he turns his head and he spends a few moments just slowly moving his left hand left-right until it all stops.

The crowd runs up to him by that time and the people are in a frenzy. They keep chanting “Rider, rider” and Atem get’s overwhelmed, having so many people congratulate him on his win.

The mass of people part as Bone Crusher rides up to him and tosses the wrench on the ground. She takes off her helmet, giving her a bad case of helmet head. Nadia gives him a long look of disdain, then lowers her gaze to the pavement and sticks out her right arm.

Atem steps off his bike and grabs it, though there’s momentary hesitation and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Nadia. Her grip instantly tightens and not only does he feel the ache in his shoulder but his palm is being crushed now too.

“Good race,” she mockingly congratulates him and shakes his hand a bit too forcefully, almost yanking it up and down instead of a simple shake.

_Fighter till the very end, isn’t she?_

“Care to show your face? I’d like to know who beat me,” she almost spits out the “beat me” part like it’s poison on her tongue.

Atem just shakes his head and flicks his tinted visor up a bit. “Not yet.”

-

Sure enough, the forum is nothing but threads about the battle between Bone Crusher and Mystery Rider; Atem doesn’t check any of them though.

He downs some very strong painkillers, sits in the shower for a good half an hour clutching his right shoulder until the pain is subdued and goes straight to bed after.

If this doesn’t stop, he’ll have to check it out at the doctor’s. Nadia is a fucking powerhouse and she put all her strength into those swings – it wouldn’t even be a surprise if she managed to crack a bone.

Atem feels excited, he wants to talk to Malik and Mana about this, wants to celebrate, but it’s all muted underneath the fatigue and the drowsiness caused by the painkillers.

He falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

-

He’s wading through inky shadows, nothing but darkness all around. It’s one of those dreams again, where he keeps wandering aimlessly, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, feeling only the brush of the shadows along his bare feet.

This one feels different though.

There’s this barely noticeable tug on his body, but it’s there and it’s leading him somewhere. Atem keeps pushing on, legs following automatically, and he’s nearing something, feels it in his chest.

The shadows are taking form now, twisting and turning all around him. A few slide along his body, past his ears and they whisper Yugi’s name. He shudders, their touch cold, slimy; ink oozes down his fingertips after he brushes his palm over his neck.

“Atem.”

He snaps his head up, that rasp particular, distant. He focuses his gaze forward and there, up ahead, a distinct shadow, vaguely the shape of a human.

He moves closer and it becomes clearer, taking the form of the King. It's like looking through water, the rider's shape rippling, like the shadows are having a hard time maintaining it.

"Atem." Another rasp and he can't help but try to reach out and touch it. As soon as his fingers make contact, the shadow bursts, enveloping him whole.

-

Atem is startled awake, hands grasping at his throat. It felt like he was drowning, darkness pouring through his mouth and into his lungs, flooding them.

It takes a few minutes to calm down but he manages.

It's the first time the shadows have shown him anything besides the Millennium Puzzle. _Does this mean that he's making progress, that they're acknowledging his win?_

There's no one to answer that question and he can only hope that it's a good sign.

His shoulder still faintly aches and when he checks it out in the bathroom mirror, there's a big yellow bruise that looks like it won't be fading for quite some time. At least his hand isn't shaking anymore – he could barely grasp the throttle by the time he reached his building.

He tries to fry eggs for breakfast while he calls Malik. Strangely, he doesn't pick up and the same happens with Mana and Mahad. He checks the time – figures, they're probably having board meetings right now. While he's fiddling with his phone, the eggs burn to a crisp. Atem just sighs, throws the pan into the sink and opts to make instant noodles.

He shoots a quick message to his friends about his quite huge accomplishment and surfs the forum, the threads full of excited posters making his heart swell a bit. Even the couple of shitpost threads that PuzzleFucker69 started are strangely endearing. Even that weirdo was thrilled in his own odd way if the edits are anything to go by.

Technically, since Mystery Rider isn't affiliated with any group, the districts that the “Night Crawlers" are now leaving unoccupied turn to neutral zones until another gang claims them. The “Clowns" will probably try to snatch them so Atem has to find members and soon. Getting 3 starting districts all at once would be quite the feat, easing the expansion of the group.

Atem has set his sights on a couple of lone riders that base themselves around the central Southside of Neo Domino but he'll probably have to race them too if he wants them to join. Rarely do loners join a gang on their own accord.

For now though, Atem doesn’t show up on the streets for a week, going to the mech's shop to change the worn out tires of his bike and to repair the tail light, getting the scrapped up sides repainted and just resting in general, because fuck, his sleeping schedule got really messed up.

-

Once he rolls out into the streets a week later, a few other riders approach him.

He's driving down the main road of the 50th when three bikers skid a bit up ahead, blocking his path. They take off their helmets and a tad bit dramatically announce that they want to join the Mystery Rider.

Atem's jaw goes a bit slack at that because wow, they sought him out for this. They want to ride with _him_.

Apparently, they're the former members of the “Night Crawlers" who were the first to leave the group once Bone Crusher got in charge, her driving “ethics" being unacceptable and her leadership a tyranny. Riding just wasn't the same with her. Mystery Rider on the other hand - a fresh new face with so much potential, headstrong and fair.

He's a bit wary to take them in so fast though, not knowing what kind of people they are, so he offers a few trial rides to see if they can first get along. They connect their helmet intercoms and ride around the now neutral districts chatting, awkward at first, but once they find common ground – motorcycles, of course – they just can’t shut up at all, almost shouting over one another over which model is the best.

Kei tends to shoot a sassy comment here and there when she doesn’t agree with something but generally she’s pleasant and is easy to get along with. She rides her bike with a certain kind of grace to it and she takes pride in her machine, fondly calling it the “Speed Demon of the South”. And it certainly packs a strong punch: the fiery red beast has the newest 87-AOB engine and 6 dry gel batteries crammed inside it.

Tao tends to be a bit quiet and when he speaks, it’s a soft whisper, but he’s a pretty chill guy and Atem takes an instant liking to him. He also has eerily similar opinions to the Egyptian’s about how Neo Domino’s government does a shitty job of running the mega city and a shared passion about the King. They both excitedly chat about the King’s yet another rematch with Kaiba until Hide tells them to get a room.

And Hide, well, when he talks his voice is gruff and he has very strong opinions on just about everything. The dude looks like a powerhouse that can knock you out with just a slap to the face, and he’s the former leader of the “Night Crawlers”. His appearance is wildly different from his personality though – Kei and Tao both swear up and down that Hide is actually a total softie, his “no need for unnecessary violence” rule being the reason he’s no longer leading the Crawlers.

Admittedly, Atem has fun with those three. They’re an odd bunch but they make it work somehow and they drive well with him, turning where he intends to go without the Egyptian having to say anything.

They head off their own ways right where they met – bellow the stoplight on the main on 50th \- agreeing to meet at the same time the next night.

Instantly a thread pops with the pictures of the four of them cruising the streets, the people speculating that Mystery Rider is gathering a gang of his own. And what can he say, they aren’t wrong at all.

They get together like this for a whole week.

The four meet on a rainy Tuesday night and this time Hide takes them to the Crawlers’ past headquarters, a basement turned lounge turned biker hideout.

Atem can barely make out anything in the darkness but once Hide plugs in a bunch of chords near the exit, the place lights up in soft shades of neon pink and blue, revealing the retro themed room. A battered antique jukebox that looks like it belongs in a museum instantly starts blaring an old rock tune. Everything’s covered in heaps of dust – it will be a bitch to clean _all_ of it out – but it’s oddly cozy.

The Egyptian stares at the other three that get busy uncovering the plastic sheets from the furniture that is there. They seem like good people and excellent drivers and they get along quite well. Plus, he can’t really be picky about who he wants to take in right now.

He removes his helmet and coughs a bit to get their attention.

“So, um, I’m Atem,” and wow, he isn’t nervous at all, nope. “Would be weird if you continued to call me Mystery Rider if we’re on the same team.”

They look at him for a couple of seconds then get back straight to work.

“There’s a bucket and a mop behind the bar counter, could you grab that and fetch some water from the bathroom at the back? The water should still be working,” Hide instructs, untangling a heap of wires behind a booth.

To be honest, Atem expected surprise or at least an, “Oh, so that’s how Mystery Rider looks”. But it’s better that they didn’t give him a special reaction - he muses as he mops under the tables - it would probably go straight to his ego and he remembers how well that ended the last time. Malik still calls him a royal idiot over that whole race with the bulky Crawler.

They spend some time tidying up the place; once they’re done, every surface shines.

The Egyptian huffs and falls into the booth where the others are resting, not used to such physical work.

“So, Atem, what brings you to Neo Domino?” Tao leans onto the table, laces his fingers beneath his chin. This piques the interest of the other two, they turn their eyes to Atem.

“King.” His answer is short and he doesn’t elaborate. These people are kind of his friends now but not on the level where he can easily say that six years of nightmares about his family’s long lost heirloom made him come here. Atem doesn’t want to scare them with his crazy talk.

“Mm, the unbeatable King,” Kei hums, satisfied with his answer. “Would love to go against him one day myself.”

“Everyone would. The longer the guy keeps the title, the more glory his defeat will bring to whomever actually manages to take him down,” adds Hide.

“Hey, maybe Mystery Rider over here might beat him one day,” Kei quips and Atem bursts out laughing at that.

“Me? Please, I’ll never get on his level, the King is just too good.”

“Yeah, it would be like going against god or something.” Tao leans back on the booth, nods to himself. Atem wholeheartedly agrees.

-

Hide is locking up the place, saying something about making spare sets of keys, when the question gets dropped.

“So, since we have the numbers now, though it would be nice to get a bit more people, we qualify as a legitimate biker gang. What’s our name then? We’re official now, right?” Kei asks.

They cast their confused looks at Atem and okay, he didn’t actually plan this far. He keeps silent, gaze going over everything in the narrow staircase until it stops on the Wadjet eye sticker on his helmet, neatly tucked under his arm.

“I was thinking about something Egypt-themed if you guys don’t mind.”

-

Their new rider jackets arrive a week later and the gang meets up in the basement to unpack.

Once Kei puts on the new garment, she instantly announces that she approves. Tao and Hide nod in support, giving Atem a thumbs up.

He didn’t want to go for anything too flashy – sometimes it’s best to keep it minimal. It also isn’t as expensive to make.

It’s a simple black leather racing jacket with a studded collar line and a gold Wadjet eye at the back, with “Gold” written at the top and “Scarabs” at the bottom of it. Atem’s jacket specifically has a “P” and a small “A” in a circle patch right over his heart; when Kei learned that he was Egyptian, she started calling him “Pharaoh Atem” and later on insisted he put it on his jacket.

“We’re finally official, huh.” Hide pats down his jacket, turns in front of the wall mirror to look at the logo on the back.

“We still need to tag the walls and then we can actually call ourselves a real gang.” Tao drags a box into the middle of the room. It’s filled with dozens of spray cans of gold paint. “Everyone, take at least four cans with you. None of the other groups have yet taken any of the neutral districts the last time I checked, so that means there’s a shitton of buildings we have to paint.”

-

It takes two full nights to tag every more noticeable building and to paint over the remaining “Night Crawlers” tags – Atem has to buy new equipment because his originally black gloves and boots are now splattered in gold.

Hide gets spotted by Bone Crusher while he’s tagging the “Dead Bait” bar, but apparently she just drove off without saying anything. Atem thought that she’ll turn to a lone rider but there’s nothing on her on the forums and the gang found zero talk about her from the other groups.

The forums go wild with the appearance of the “Gold Scarabs” on the scene, many speculating that Mystery Rider will reveal himself soon. And Atem isn’t gonna lie, he probably will because it’s getting annoying having to scroll past like 10 conspiracy threads about him, each one more ridiculous than the other. _Lizard people, really? What year is it, 2009?_

This hype around him online attracts a few more members to the gang: Nori, the techie, Akira, another speed junkie, and surprisingly, Neon Runner. Although technically, it was more like Atem specifically tracked Neon Runner down and challenged him to a skirmish which he won out of pure luck. The guy’s bike ran out of juice right at the last bend before the finish line – all those neon lights decking the bike drained the batteries. Neon Runner wasn’t annoyed at all about having to join a gang – he was actually pretty excited to have a team to drive around with.

The neighboring gangs were suspiciously inactive along the shared district borders, especially the “Clowns”. Their feud with the “Hatchet Sisters” was still ongoing but it never stopped them from snatching up a few free districts before.

-

This silence lasts only for a month.

Atem gets a call from Akira that a few Clowns are trespassing over from the 47th into the 48th and that they’re tagging walls. He signals for the others to roll out, leaves Nori to watch over the basement while they’re clearing things up.

They reach Akira, now surrounded by a bunch of Clowns. It looks like he’s shouting at Marlo, the leader, who appears to be bored out of his mind, gazing at the sky. As soon as Atem drives up, his attention shifts to the Egyptian and the Clown smirks in greeting.

“Well look who finally showed up. Mystery Rider, how’s it going?”

“Just peachy,” he retorts but Marlo remains unphased, chuckles and grins back at him. “Care to explain what you’re doing in our turf?”

Marlo’s eyes narrow like he’s thinking very hard about something. After a pause, he grins again and then raises his arms to gesture at his surroundings. “I came here to take the 47th. Would’ve taken it sooner but the Sisters were causing a bit of a ruckus on the other end. You know how persistent they can get.” The Clown guffaws and doubles over, his laugh loud and booming.

Atem is very confused. He’s heard that Marlo is kind of a weirdo but this is a bit bizarre. _Is he high? Or on absinthe or something?_

The Clown climbs off his bike and almost face-plants onto the pavement. He has trouble getting up and when he approaches Atem, he wobbles all the way. _Definitely on something_.

He stops right in front of the Egyptian, steadies himself on the fairing. “So we'll be taking this place now if that's alright with you.”

It's not fucking alright and Atem tells Marlo just that.

“Ah, but buddy, we need this district! The Sisters snatched the 36th and the 38th from us last night!” the Clown clutches at his heart, gives out a dramatic wail.

Atem just stares unamused at the guy's antics. How could someone like him be in charge of a group? He's nothing but dramatics half of the time. “You know the rules. You want a territory, you race for it.”

Marlo instantly stops flailing around, his eyes narrow on the Egyptian. The air around him changes. “Never quite liked going by the rules.”

He gives Atem one long glare and then stomps back to his bike, movements precise and sharp. “I'll entertain you this time, Rider.” Marlo mounts the motorcycle and puts on some goggles. “The course?”

Marlo is a speedster that has a liking to taking drastic measures when things don't quite go his way. Atem hopes that he's not the kind of guy to pull out a wrench in the middle of the race, though he has heard that the Clown sometimes pulls out a pipe or two if he's particularly aggressive that night.

Kei draws closer, taps their leader on the back to get his attention. “We shouldn't make this a straight race. The more it's based in the backdoors, the higher the chance for us to win.”

Atem nods. If they make it a no set course race, he could avoid going against the Clown one on one and his antics if he decides to pull any tonight.

“Me vs. you. From here to the second highway exit. Go any way to get there first.”

Marlo just gives a mock sigh. “And here I was hoping for something more interesting.”

“I'm not done. We're racing for the 48th and the 47th.” Hearing that, the Clown smirks. “You're not getting a fourth district, Rider.”

“We'll see.”

Atem instructs the gang to make their way to the finish, Marlo nods for the gathered Clowns to do the same. Kei stays behind to start off the race.

It probably won't take long for the news about this race to reach the net and the other gangs. They should expect to get some spectators along the districts.

“You handled Nadia quite well,” Marlo comments as they align their bikes to the starting line. “Told her that she won't last long.”

Atem doesn't respond, just shuts his visor and starts up the bike, ready to begin.

“Not very talkative I see. And here I thought we'll start off on friendly terms.”

The Egyptian snorts. Sure, invading a district is starting off “friendly".

They're waiting for Kei to drop her hand, burning out their rear tires. Atem's right leg is starting to act up again - he'll probably never get rid of the jitters he gets before a match.

It drops and they're off, both instantly turning to opposite directions. That's good, Atem thinks, he won't have to worry about Marlo, will just have to be faster than him.

He turns to drive through a couple of underground parking lots – a bit of a faster route than going through the twisting alleyways of the 48th district. He rides out into the main street, crosses into the 49th and turns left into a back alley.

The Clown skids into the back alley at the same time as he does, appearing out of thin air. He has to do a double-take – did Marlo know he was going to take this specific backdoor or did they meet by chance?

The other racer raises his hand in greeting and accelerates, tearing through the narrow passage. Atem shifts gears and follows, almost catching up.

They'll hit a dead end if they continue. Atem twists his bike out into the street as soon as the first exit shows up, driving past a few smokers outside a diner, making them jump back and drop their cigarettes – losing Marlo in the alleys.

He drives into a vendor street, which still has some people crowding the little shops. Atem blasts the air horn and they scatter, jumping out of the way of a speeding motorcycle. He swerves into an alley on the right – less obstacles to hinder his driving.

Marlo magically pops up here too, driving up from behind him. He swears and turns right again, in hopes that he'll lose the Clown once more. But no matter how much he twists and skids through the backdoors, almost goes off-course, the other always finds a way to appear beside him, a huge grin plastered on his face as he gives a small wave every time. _How hasn't he chocked on a fly yet?_

It's getting on Atem's nerves at this point so he just drives out onto the main street. There's no point in driving through the alleys if the guy's just following him and not speeding towards the finish line. By now it’s obvious that he’s trying him out – probably showed up in his turf just to specifically race him.

The Clown catches up on his right; now they're driving side by side, nose to nose. They enter the 50th district - it's a straight road and a sharp turn to the right to the finish line.

Marlo tries to pull off the same trick as Nadia – drives in real close, reaches for Atem’s handlebar. The Egyptian reads him before the Clown even has the chance to touch it and leans as far to the left as he can, the bike following his motion and steering out of reach.

The Clown follows him though, still reaching out. Atem drives off the road onto the sidewalk, people leaping out of the way of the two racers. He doesn’t have any more room to move away, unless he wants to scratch his whole left side along the buildings.

Marlo latches onto his right shoulder, gripping his jacket tight, and yanks. Atem yells out as his whole body shifts towards the other racer, almost losing his grip on the handles, making his motorcycle bump into the other’s. He manages to hold on with his right hand but just barely.

The other is still pulling the Egyptian, unbalancing his bike and making it wobble dangerously. Fuck, at this rate he will crash if he doesn’t steady it somehow.

Atem twists the throttle, hoping that Marlo will let go, but he has his jacket in a steel grip and is now pulling him back too. This just made it even worse but he doesn’t stop.

The final turn is coming up now and he prays that he manages to pull it off with just one hand, doesn’t fucking crash right as he leans into it.

He slightly pushes on the right handle and the motorcycle turns. He leans right now, the bike sways in the same direction, its side getting close to the ground; Marlo’s doing the same beside him, still latched on to Atem.

It’s a long turn and when his bike gets low enough, he slams his right leg onto the ground, keeps it there for the duration of the turn. As soon as the metal soles make contact with the pavement, there’s a shower of white sparks.

Marlo instantly lets go, the sparks hitting him straight on. The racer moves to cover up his face, slowing down.

Free, Atem seizes the bike and rights it, shifts his weight to the left, before it completely turns on its side and he has to lay it down.

With the Clown lagging behind now, he accelerates and freely crosses the finish line, heart almost jumping out of his throat. If there were gravel or even a bump on the road, he would’ve went pavement surfing. The thought that Marlo could’ve even ran him over if that happened makes him shudder.

His gang moves in to congratulate him, jumping around and patting him on the back. While they’re celebrating, Atem thanks the gods that he actually survived.

Sure enough, there’s a crowd of people at the finish. He pays them no mind, moves towards Marlo who’s off his motorcycle now, rubbing at his face. There’s a pang of guilt but he tries not to dwell on it too much – he didn’t have much choice, did what he could at the time to make the other release him.

The Clown notices his presence and lowers his hands a bit. There are a few burns peppering his face but they don’t look that severe.

“Never thought that you’d pull something like this,” the guy barks out a laugh, like all of this was nothing. “Good race though. Don’t know about you but I had fun.”

If nearly crashing and almost having a heart attack because of it is fun then yeah, Atem had lots of fun.

Marlo raises his hand for a shake. “Mystery Rider?”

Atem looks at the extended hand for a moment. Fuck, he burned the guys face, he at least deserves to know who’s responsible for it. He moves to remove his helmet, hesitates for a moment, then finally takes it off.

The Clown quirks an eyebrow, smiles impossibly wide. “Never thought I’ll get the honors.”

The Egyptian just tucks the helmet under his arm and grabs the other’s hand. “Was a bit tired of people speculating who I am.” The other laughs at that. “Atem.”

“Atem. Nice name. Less of a mouthful than “Mystery Rider” at least.” They shake hands and part ways.

“One day I’ll get the districts by the way,” Marlo offhandedly comments as they turn away from one another.

-

The gang spends the remainder of the night tagging the 47th. They part ways once they finish, everyone a bit too tired to celebrate the first win of the group, leaving it for the next night.

The forum should be thanking Atem because these stunts of his attract a lot of traffic to the site. He’s been scrolling for a good half an hour and there’s nothing but endless threads about him. He reads a few posts and shuts down his laptop for the night.

He’s stepping into the shower when his pad starts ringing and he rushes out, trips on the shower jamb in his haste. It’s Malik calling and once he picks up, there’s an excited squeal on the other end.

“Hello to you too, Malik,” Atem greets as soon as the other stops squealing – probably ran out of air.

“Atem, my bro, I can’t believe it!” Malik screams some more and Atem has to pull his pad away from his ear; all this screaming will make him deaf in one ear.

“You’ll wake up Rishid and Isis with your screaming, quiet down,” he chides but his friend just scoffs.

“Can’t I even get excited about things anymore? You’re all the way there having the time of your life and I’m here, working.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call almost crashing every time I race as having the time of my life, but okay, I get your point.”

“See?” Atem rolls his eyes at that. “Anyways, they’re downstairs watching TV, so no worries. Your race though! I saw a couple of vids and damn, that trick with the boots really won it. The way everything just sparked was spectacular!”

And Atem has to admit, after rewatching the last moments of the match a couple of times that it did look kinda cool.

“I don’t think I’ll be doing that anymore though.” Malik gives out a long whine at that. “No, seriously, it’s bad for the boots and the other guy’s face got burned a bit from the sparks.”

“Shit, yeah, better not then.”

Pause.

“So, did you meet Yugi yet?”

Atem lets out a long sigh. “Nope,” he pops the p.

“Hmmm, will probably have to drive around some more then.”

“Yeah, or just wait for a bigger tournament to come up.”

-

After being in Neo Domino for almost 4 months now, Atem finally manages to meet the King.

“Gold Scarabs” consists of 13 members now, including him. They have expanded themselves quite a bit too, winning over a couple of districts from the “Clowns” and four more from both the “Red Sunsets” and the “Cataracts” each. He even talked a couple of groups into having friendly relations, allowing them to roam freely into further districts.

This lets them drive all the way to the 80th district, the central neutral zone where the “Landstar” lounge is located.

Atem gets a call from Tao one evening. The King had just entered “Landstar” and it seems like he’ll be staying there for a while, unless word gets out about this.

The Egyptian almost trips over his own two feet hurrying to his motorcycle parked outside the basement.

He worked so hard to get where he is today, all of this so that he could just talk to the guy and he feels like he is finally worth it, at least to see him in person.

His heart beats wildly as he descends into the lounge, excited to finally meet the King.

Tao’s sitting by the exit; he smiles in greeting and nods in the bar’s direction. Atem looks over to the back and instantly spots the wild colorful hair – he spent so much time looking at the King’s pictures that he would recognize him even if he was almost blind – the King’s figure hunched over the counter, arms flailing animatedly as if he’s telling a story.

 _The King_ is right here.

It just feels too surreal – _I am actually going to talk to the King_ \- and he just stands there at the entrance for a good few minutes, staring at the upturned pyramid logo on the King’s back, the eye in the center of it staring back. Atem's mind's a blank - he's at a complete loss of what to do now.

Tao gently kicks his shin and hisses at him to just go already. This gives Atem the encouragement he needs and he shuffles towards the bar.

What will he say though? ‘Oh hey there, I’m Atem, a big fan, now let’s talk about that pendant you have there, kay?’ Fuck, he hadn’t thought about this at all. Should he just say hi and hope that the King will do all the talking? What if he just bolts as soon as he sees him? Does the King even know who he is?

Mind buzzing, he stops right behind the King and his right leg starts shaking just a bit. The other doesn’t notice the presence behind him, just keeps talking to the barman. The barman does notice Atem though and the guy straightens up a bit and oh - it’s Jounouchi, another member of the “Players” and the King’s best friend.

Jounouchi gives him an amused look and fuck, is it that obvious that he’s kinda nervous to approach the King?

The King keeps talking, unaware that his friend’s attention shifted elsewhere, and Jounouchi just keeps glancing back at Atem, waiting for him to do something.

The Egyptian takes in a couple of deep breaths – _don’t be so nervous_ \- finally wills his hand to move and he raises it to tap the King on the shoulder.

“Yugi!” a voice booms from the other end of the lounge and he jumps.

Everyone turns to look at the exit – there, at the foot of the stairs, is Kaiba, decked out in full rider gear.

He takes a few long strides – _how tall even is he?_ – and is instantly over at the bar, shoving Atem out of the way to talk to the King.

“Outside. Now.”

The King turns in his seat, stares at Kaiba for a few long seconds and then sighs.

“I’ll tell you the rest later. That okay with you, Jou?”

“Sure thing. Go ‘n beat his ass, Yug!”

The King gives Jounouchi a thumbs up.

Kaiba just barks for Jounouchi to shut up and leaves, not once glancing back to see if the King’s following. The other gets off the stool and only now notices Atem, standing there a bit shocked. He gives him a little wave in greeting as he passes him and hurries off, zipping up his jacket and muttering something about getting a move on or Kaiba will be pissed.

Half of the people in the lounge follow him out, clearly intrigued by what might happen.

By the time Atem climbs the stairs, there’s a small crowd gathered on the street. He spots Tao’s blond head up front and elbows his way through to him.

“There’s a thread about the match already. I wonder how many people will show up,” Tao comments once he reaches him.

“Looking at who the racers are, expect a small army.”

Tao chuckles and elbows him to look up front.

Kaiba’s already waiting to start, revving up his bike impatiently, the white beast letting out a loud roar every time. He had built that bike from scratch, using the best tech Kaiba Corp. has to offer and Atem begrudgingly has to admit, he’s kinda jealous. He loves his current bike but damn, if he could waste his dad’s money to build one himself.

The King rolls up to Kaiba, his own distinct violet vehicle reflecting the city lights. It’s almost the same as Atem’s, just a way newer model. Its rear is decorated in various stickers, a huge crown sticker taking up most of the left side.

“10 laps around the central,” Kaiba snaps and shuts his visor.

 _Straight to the point, as always_.

The King nods and puts on his helmet, ready to begin. A kid – pretty obviously Mokuba – runs out into the middle of the street and readies himself to start the race.

It’s so exciting to actually see the King race in person and against Kaiba nonetheless. Atem lets out a cheer once the race starts and both of the opponents tear off, leaving the crowd behind.

Time seems to drag on whenever they have to wait for the racers to drive by, completing the lap and starting yet another, and there’s this nervous energy in the air.

Are they clashing somewhere far off? What if something happens to the King or Kaiba? What if Kaiba tries to suicide his way into winning again?

For now, it seems like the match is a tie, both racers going side by side when they pass the starting line time and time again. It looks like it will be a clean race unless Kaiba decides to pull something ridiculous at the last moment.

The last lap starts. The crowd is getting anxious; Atem’s right leg starts jittering and he has trouble standing still.

Who will they see coming up first?

The familiar roar of the bikes reaches his ears and he leans forward, trying to distinguish the speeding blurs in the distance.

The faster the racers approach the crowd, the more it’s obvious that the King is in the lead. It looks like his bike is already at its limit, engine roaring incredibly loud, but he accelerates even more, zooms past the finish and brakes hard, skidding a good length past the line. Kaiba is hot on his trail though, skidding just behind him.

The crowd gives out a deafening cheer.

The King removes his helmet, moves to talk to Kaiba but the latter just waits until Mokuba is settled on the bike and drives off, obviously pissed.

People start slowly dispersing, chatting among themselves about the whole spectacle. Atem is having an inner debate inside his head.

The King is still there, crouching by his motorcycle, checking it over and not hurrying off like he usually does. He could go up and talk to him, if his legs actually moved like we wants them to.

The King finishes giving his bike a once-over and straightens out, stretches his arms. As he’s doing so, he turns his head in Atem’s direction and their gazes meet. The other stares at him for a bit and then smiles – _he has a nice smile_ – pushes his bike towards him.

“Hey, Mystery Rider, isn’t it?” The King stops right in front of Atem. “Or can I call you Atem? Don’t know which name you prefer to go by now.”

He stares at the other for a few moments. After he realizes that the King asked him a question, he rushes to respond, “Atem is just fine.”

“I’ve been to several of your races. You handle your bike pretty well, Atem.”

“You have?” the Egyptian doesn’t even try to mask his surprise at that.

The King is practically beaming now and Atem’s heart maybe skips a beat or two. “Yeah! We don’t get riders like you showing up on the scene every day, especially ones that are pretty good from the start.”

He can’t believe what he’s hearing – The King is complimenting him. The King thinks that he’s a good rider.

“I,” Atem pauses, not knowing what to say to that. “That really means a lot, coming from you, uh, Kin-“

“Yugi. Please don’t call me by that title, it gets annoying pretty fast,” the other shakes his head a bit, still giving him that nice little smile.

“Okay, Yugi, thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for, really. It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” Yugi offers to shake hands.

He doesn’t hesitate now, lets his palm slide into the other’s. Yugi’s grip is sturdy, his hand a tad bit smaller than Atem’s and it fits perfectly in his own.

The handshake is over in an instant and they part ways; Yugi drives off and Atem just stands there, completely dumbfounded. Beside him Tao lets out a screech once Yugi is out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some concept art: http://yotrashkid.tumblr.com/post/159339417841/been-listening-to-akiras-ost-on-loop-for-days-and  
> http://yotrashkid.tumblr.com/post/159913477876
> 
> and some really cool art from my dear bro: http://yaboybokuto.tumblr.com/post/159336289613/waiting-for-yotrashkids-cyberpunk-au-like


End file.
